


Not Like This

by SoulofaWinchester67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:23:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2490983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulofaWinchester67/pseuds/SoulofaWinchester67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine visiting Dean's grave after he's gone to Hell and seeing him crawl out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Like This

 I mindlessly pulled up the park brake to my stolen car and sat, staring straight ahead out the windshield. Every piece of me that had shattered nearly four months ago was screaming not to get out of the car. To just drive away like I'd never come here in the first place. Like none of this had ever happened.

I swore to myself that I'd never come here, not once. That I would remember him how he would want me to remember him. How he'd want me to remember us. Lying in bed together on a rare night off, or after a successful hunt, me pressing my cold hands and feet on to him. The sound of him laughing and telling me to knock it off with a smile on his face. Or when we first met. Back when he was just blowing through town and I thought maybe, just maybe, I could just tumble on out with him. That's how he'd want me to think of him.

Not like this.

Not stuck in the ground, ripped to shreds by a massive black dog from Hell. Dean wouldn't want me to remember watching him die, pinned up against the wall with his brother by the demon that held his contract. That one demon who if we had just managed to kill her, I would still have him by my side. Sam and Dean would still be getting into their endless fights about god knows what and I'd be there to break it apart, letting them both know how dumb they were being before we all went out for dinner. Things would be the way they always were with the boys; monster vanquished and drinks all around.

Not like this.

I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes and sucked in a deep, steadying breath. Not that it did much to steady me anyway. I pulled one of Dean's old jackets on and got out of the car, slamming the door behind me. My boots crunched over the gravel and I pulled the old fabric tighter around me, a chill running down my spine as I made my way into the woods through the sharp, September air. I didn't need a map to know where he was buried.

_“You really wanna come with us?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief. Clearly he'd never encountered any lowly civilian that had wanted to tag along before._

_“Yeah, I really do. So? What's it gonna be?”_

_“Uh, in all fairness Kate, I'm not sure you're cut out for this kind of life,” Sam said, trying to make his words sound kind despite the order he'd put them in. I scoffed and let out a small sigh, pacing back and forth across the hardwood of my kitchen._

_“You really expect me to go back to all this?” I asked, gesturing around me with both arms. “Killing that ghost was one of the single most badass things I have ever done. And probably ever will do if you don't let me come with you.”_

_Dean laughed now and I glared at him a little. “What the hell Sammy? Huh? Why not? I mean, receptionist and hunter, how different can they really be?”_

_“Dean, not helping,” Sam said, his voice strained._

_“Yeah, not helping,” I said. I crossed out of the kitchen and walked down the hall to my bedroom. The two of them followed, clearly curious to see what I was doing. I went to my bedside drawer and dug something out of the back._

_“Whoa, whoa!” they both said in unison when I turned around, gun held out in both hands._

_I didn't bother to tell them I could handle it, instead I relocked the safety, popped out the clip and dismantled the top half of my pistol. And as quickly as I had taken it apart, I put it back together and pulled back the safety for good measure. I pointed the gun steadily between them, and then relocked the safety, holding it at my side._

_“Well, kinda hard to argue with that,” Sam said, shrugging and giving a sideways look to Dean._

_Dean was grinning at me now. “This is gonna be fun.”_

I pushed past a thicket of saplings and made my way through the brush, still heading north. It felt like another lifetime that I'd asked to tag along with them. I was different back then; cocky, self-assured, confident. My life would be so different now if I had just stayed in that apartment and lived my life, let them go. But I wouldn't trade anything for what happened between Dean and I. Not for a second. Even if it meant living through his death a thousand times.

_“You really wanna make a bet with me Katie? Seriously?” Dean asked, taking another swig of his beer. “Come on, I thought you knew better than this.”_

_“Well clearly I don't. So here's the terms, three shots each. I lose, I'm stuck on laundry detail for a month and you get to use my precious, fraudulent earnings for whatever you want for a week. I win, I drive the Impala for a week wherever we go, and you have to share a bed with Sam for the next three hunts. Deal?” I asked, grinning at the expression of horror on his face should he lose. He licked his bottom lip, biting down on the corner as he thought about it. I took a sip of my beer and added, “Come on, you know you want to. And whoever pukes forfeits if they win.” in the best sing-song voice I could manage._

_“Fine. Deal.” He said, smiling at me with that trademark look of his. He waved the bartender over and ordered six shots, whiskey for him, rum for me. He explained the terms of our bet to the bartender, who quickly agreed to be our moderator and we started. The alcohol burned my throat as it went down, but I slammed my shot glass onto the bar and Dean followed with his last a second later. The bartender held up my arm like a referee and cheered my victory._

_“Yeah!” I screamed, sliding off my bar stool and attempting at a small victory dance. I stumbled and my hand found it again, gripping the wood for support._

_“Yeah, yeah, okay there Captain Morgan, let's get you home,” Dean said, standing up as well. I could see the quick intake of alcohol had affected him too, but not nearly as much as me. His tolerance was definitely higher. He handed our ref a few bills and we stumbled out of the bar._

_Back at the motel room with my inhibitions severely lowered, I clung onto Dean even after we'd stopped walking. He sat me down on the bed and I let go, staring up at him. Hesitantly he sat next to me and I laid my head on his shoulder, my fingers intertwining with his. He looked down at them and then over at me. We locked eyes for about ten seconds before I let my eyes slide shut and he closed the gap between us._

_Kissing him was more electrifying than I'd thought. He knew exactly what he was doing, and god damn was it working. My hand found his face and my fingers scratched over the stubble on his cheek before I pulled back and blurted out, “Bathroom.”_

_As quickly as my legs could carry me I ran to the bathroom, flung the door open and let the contents of my stomach empty out into the toilet bowl. I hastily tried to pull up my hair with one hand as the other clutched the bowl, but it wasn't working too well. And then I felt Dean's warm fingers brush over mine has he gathered my hair in his hands and held it back for me._

_After I was sure I wasn't going to heave anymore I flushed the toilet and leaned back against the tub, wrapping both arms around Dean's leg. He sat there looking down at me and said, “So kissing me was that bad, huh?”_

There it was. That piddly looking little wooden cross Sam had made for him. And the mound of dirt covering the pine box we'd put him in. It was even growing grass now it had been so long. But there was one thing that was different, and looking around, I couldn't explain it.

Every tree surrounding his grave for at least a quarter mile was lying flat on the ground.

“What the hell?” I asked, carefully stepping over each fallen tree like it was a soldier on a battle field. The small clearing where he was buried was untouched as far as I could tell, and I kneeled at the end of the newly grown grass and started pulling it out.

“I should've brought you something...” I said, failing to hold back tears, my blurry vision locked on the letters of his name, carved into the cross. “You never were a fan of flowers.” My breath hitched and I looked down at the dirt and grass in my hands, still ripping it out. “Remember that time I bought you that vase of lilacs? I had no idea you were allergic to them...”

_“Babe, I've got a surprise for you,” I said, peeking my head into the motel room. I glanced over at Sam and saw him roll his eyes, but the smile playing at his lips was not lost on me. My eyes shifted to Dean as he stood up._

_“Oh? Do we need to kick Sammy out?” he said, giving me that cheeky grin of his._

_“Not that kind of surprise, just close your eyes,” I said. I looked at him and he closed his eyes, mostly anyway. “Ah, no, close 'em. There you go.” I smiled and walked into the room now, holding out a small vase of lilac flowers in front of him. “Okay, you can open them.”_

_Before Dean could really see what I was giving him he let out a sneeze. Luckily he ducked his head into the crease of his elbow, otherwise I probably would've gotten a face full of his saliva. He straightened up and looked at my gift, his face falling a bit. My stomach lurched._

_“What? What's wrong?” I asked, suddenly fearful._

_“Nothing, nothing,” he said, stepping forward and wrapping me in a hug. I returned it as best I could with my one hand free and Sam piped up from the kitchen table, somehow tearing himself away from his laptop._

_“Nothing except the fact that he's allergic to lilacs,” Sam said, starting to laugh. “Big bad hunter done in by a few flimsy, purple flowers.” He chuckled to himself and went back to typing away at his keys._

_“Hey, one trip to Plucky's and you're a mess, so shut it.”_

_“Oh my god, I'm so sorry,” I said pulling back and moving to dump the lilacs in the trash. Dean stopped me by the arm and pulled me back to him, smiling._

_“Thank you though,” he said, taking the vase from me and putting it on the nightstand. He came back and knotted his fingers behind me, pulling me closer. Another second and the gap between us closed as he kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pushed closer to him still._

_“Barf,” Sam said, glancing over at us._

_“What are you, twelve? Deal with it,” Dean said, not looking back at his brother. I just heard Sam laugh as Dean pulled me in again._

“God I miss you so much,” I said, letting the memory replay in my head. “What I wouldn't give to have you back...”

 _What a way to spend my birthday,_ I thought to myself. It's not like I'd really had any plans though. Probably going to a bar, getting drunk, and spending the night alone in my motel room. I idly wondered where Sam was now. We hadn't spoken since we'd buried Dean. It didn't bother me, I knew exactly how he felt. We'd both wanted some space. But as I sat here I knew Dean would kick my ass for not keeping an eye on his brother.

I closed my eyes, tearing them away from the small wooden cross. _Too bad birthday wishes don't actually work, otherwise I'd have you back by now._ I thought to myself, playing with the grass.

And then I felt it. Underneath me the dirt was beginning to move, just a little. I looked down and sure enough the grass was beginning to- Jesus it looked like it was starting to breathe. I tried to stand up but I stumbled backward, quickly scrambling back into the tall grass. I sat there, staring at the dirt as it moved, gradually getting more animated as the seconds ticked by.

Not like this. No, not like this. God damn it, I wanted him back but this was just cruel. Some kind of sick joke my addled brain was playing on me. I knew I shouldn't have come here. I should've found Sam, I should've stuck with him. What if he'd made some deal? What if he'd sold his soul to bring back his brother?

And then, peeking out of the dirt, were fingertips. They wiggled and gripped onto the soft dirt that was quickly tumbling away from them, trying to find purchase on something. And then two whole hands were suddenly sticking out of the dirt, tearing out the grass as I had done not minutes before as they tried to pull. And they kept pulling and suddenly I wasn't frozen anymore.

I crawled forward, my heart racing and held onto the two hands sticking out of the dirt. Even if this somehow wasn't Dean, I was here and I needed to help. If whoever this was didn't get out soon they'd suffocate in the dirt. So I pulled. I pulled as hard as I could and a head started to emerge from the mound of earth at my feet.

The sound of his sharp inhale caught me off guard, but I kept pulling. And then I saw his face. My hands felt numb, and my legs turned to jelly. I collapsed to the ground, cool, soft dirt meeting my knees and the moisture soaked through my jeans. His face was constricted in pain as he now pushed himself out of the dirt, coming nearly halfway into the light. I watched in awe for a half second more before I grabbed Dean's hand and pulled him out the rest of the way.

He collapsed, still sucking in dry, wheezing breaths as he lay on the ground. I sat there in the dirt, stunned into silence. I couldn't have made that up, hallucinated it, imagined it. He was really here, lying on the ground next to me. But my years with the boys had taught me one thing.

As quickly as I could I dug into my jacket pocket, remembering it was really Dean's jacket that I wore, and produced a flask filled with holy water. I unscrewed the cap and splashed some of it on his arm. No effect. He didn't even seem to notice I'd done anything, he was still focusing on his breathing. I chucked the flask aside and dug the silver knife out of my boot, pressing it to the bare skin on his wrist. Nothing. No burning, no sizzling. No screams of pain. Nothing.

“Dean?” I tried out tentatively. I hadn't spoken his name in over four months, but it still felt the same on my tongue. It sent sparks of electricity shooting down my spine and I crawled closer to him, testing it out again. “Dean?”

His eyes fluttered open as he brushed the dirt from them, and he looked at me. I could see he was confused and it took him a second before he said anything. His voice was so hoarse, but he sounded happy. “Katie?”

Hearing his voice again after so long sent me over the edge. Tears of joy sprang to my eyes and I flung myself onto him, eliciting another wheeze and a cough of pain from him. Quickly I removed myself and kneeled close to him, taking his bloodied hand in both of mine and kissing it.

“Dean? It's okay sweetie, it's okay. I'm here,” I said, kissing each knuckle and squeezing his hand. “It's okay, I'm not gonna leave you. Not ever.”

A weak smile pulled at his lips and more tears streamed down my face. I let go of his hand and he set it lightly on my back. I leaned down over him, happier than I'd been in months, and pressed a kiss to his mouth. He kissed me back as well as he could at the moment and I smiled into it. It didn't matter that he was covered from head to toe in dirt, that I could taste it in my mouth now, or that I had no idea how he was back. But he was back, and I'd be damned if I was going to let him slip away again.

I'd never had such a wonderful birthday until 2008. Not like this.


End file.
